The figure wearily trudged along the dusty road each step an arduous labor sending atrophied stings through their fatigued legs. They walked forth carrying their back as straight as possible in a pointless denial of their own languor. With each step their foot knocked against the end of their too small wooden shoes shaving away the skin at the end of their toes. A gusting wind swelled against the figures diminutive body sending their oversized brown cloak billowing backwards. Their cloak washed aside revealed the figures slender body beneath; a woman hidden under a mismatched collection of gambeson armors manually altered to be perfectly formfitting such that together they completely covered her body from neck to foot leaving no skin bare to the environs. Her hands were safeguarded by thin leather gloves which left her free for more dexterous tasks.

The hood of the woman’s cloak had been strapped tightly to her chin in a desperate struggle to keep from flying off her head. Firmly clasped against her face by some unknown force was the brown porcelain mask of a doe. The blank beady eyes of the doe left seemingly no room for the character underneath to peer through, yet still she walked with firm conviction. Besides the doe mask on her face, the woman had two more masks mounted on either shoulder as pauldrons. One mask being that of a mantis and the other of a sloth. Each mask, just as the doe, held firmly to the woman’s body despite no visible mechanism existing to do so.

The woman’s arms wrapped protectively against her chest holding in place a small black rectangular box. Like the rest of her belongings, this item too was stolen. It had been quite a long time, since she had acquired this box, but she vaguely remembered that the original owner had called it a briefcase.

In time for the first threats of rain, the woman’s wobbly legs managed to carry her to the mouth of a village. The dusty dirt road was choked on either side by hobbled houses of wet wood whose wandering strength whined with the waning wind. It was a small village, the woman figured it could not have more than a dozen streets make up the entirety of the community’s home. It was an isolated place filled with isolated people; she was most likely the first visitor to travel by for a long time since, and again hence. That was a good thing as far as she was concerned, lost and alone was the ideal, it made her even harder to track.

There wasn’t much artistry to be showcased in the town, not much stood out at all. The only notable exception to this would be the flaming building a little further along the street. Sweltering tongues of fire licked out in raging destruction. The weak wood that made up the building splintered and cracked crumbling against the caustic chemical curtain. A smothering inferno loomed over the town overshadowing even the dawning day star rising from yonder. The waves and blasts of the blaring hellfire boomed filling the otherwise quiet village with the torrential terror of environmental immolation. The searing flames were so loud it nearly drowned out the tormented shrieking eking out from within.

Barely noticeable through a shadowed window was the helpless char of mangled flesh. Their staining silhouette desperately clawing at the dismissive bystanders in a hopeful plea for aid. The empathetic clouds rained down a feeble rescue attempt that pitifully fizzled against the scorching torrent. The doe stirred ready to turn away, but the woman quickly recollected herself. Ignoring her foreign fear, the woman analyzed her surroundings; the few townspeople who were out and about were totally apathetic to the plight of the melting family, most hardly even registering its presence. The only few who were actually engaging with the pyre were the couple neighbors trying to save their own homes from combustion. For now, the woman simply wanted a place to rest and surely she would not be looking to those people for it, so she moved on.

The woman continued travelling down the street in search for some available lodging. The doe was wary of the occasional ire cast by the locals, but none posed any threat as they were all quick to return to their usual routines, well most were. A small group of children had been not so subtly skulking along the nearby alleys tentatively spying on this mysterious stranger. Even the doe saw little danger in the children, the woman ignored them and approached a building which was significantly larger than the rest around it, it seemed to be the local tavern and with any luck it would be an inn as well.

She entered the tavern finally escaping the powerful wind and allowing her oversized cloak to fully wrap around her adding some much needed bulk to her stature. The inside of the tavern was as one would expect from such a quaint town. Shoddy craftsmanship left splintering chairs and lopsided tables strewn across the warped floors. The establishment housed only a few patrons, probably regulars that frequented the bottom of a glass as much as they did their families. Her entrance to the tavern was welcomed by the homing gazes of leery eyes. She was an intruder, a foreign infection whose presence was the harbinger of change, an unpredictability that would jostle the pleasantly monotonous routine that was their lives.

She simply ignored the judging subsidiaries, used to the disapproving oppressive atmosphere and approached the lone bartender who stood across a long wooden bar washing a tall glass with a cloth the woman though was surely too dirty itself to be used for cleaning. The bartender himself was a little shorter than average but he was still easily two heads taller than her. The woman cleared her throat and spoke to the host. “Hello, I was wondering if you offered rooms to stay here?” Her voice had a strained rasp that made her every word sound as a loud whisper.

The bartender was taken aback by the unexpected voice behind the mask, but his demeaning glare remained. Despite the bartender’s obvious distaste for the figure, he still remained courteous. “We don’t offer any rooms here. If you want to find a place to rest, you’ll have to ask and see if any of the locals will be willing to lend you a room.”

The woman looked at the bartender hopefully, though through the mask she remained as unreadable as ever. “Would you be willing to lend me a room for just one night? I can pay.”

“I’m sorry but I’m working here all day and I mean no disrespect, but I’d rather not leave my home alone with a stranger.”

The woman looked out the tavern’s window catching a glimpse of the eager day star, a couple of exhausted patrons were making their way out leaving less than a dozen people in the room. She turned her gaze back to the smiling barkeep and was struck with a sudden wave of resigned irritation. Disappointed, her shoulders slouched, and she let out a tired sigh. “I understand.” She turned around so that the lifeless doe mask she wore could stare back at all of the patrons that had been eavesdropping on her conversation. “Well, is anyone else here willing to rent me a room for one day and one night? I just need lodging, no food nor latrine required; I’ll be gone by tomorrow morning.” Frankly, she would have really liked all of those things, but she desperately wanted a roof and cot to sleep under and if that meant she had to drop the other amenities to increase her chances at getting that, then she would make that sacrifice.

Even so with her painfully bare necessities the tavern remained quiet, the dead stares of everyone made it seem unlikely that any volunteers would come up and welcome her to their homes. Right when she was about to concede and start knocking door to door someone finally spoke up. “I have a barn.” His irked voice was gruff. It was clear that his offer didn’t come from any sort of generosity or even pity but rather a forfeit, his noble sacrifice for the town to eschew the woman from bothering anymore residents with her presence. The man looked the doe in the eyes. “What? you got a problem with the barn?”

The woman quickly swallowed down her annoyance. “No sir, a barn would be perfect. Thank you for helping me sir.”

The man scoffed at her obvious platitude. “But if you are staying the night in my barn then you better wash yourself by the river first. I wouldn’t want to subject my animals to your wretched stench.”

The woman couldn’t believe what she just heard. Under the doe mask her face contorted into a terrible anger; while hidden by the oversized sleeves of the cloak she clenched her hands into fists. Before doing anything rash she wanted to test something first. The doe raised one of her hands and smelled the pit of her arm: oh. She supposed it had been a long time since she had bathed. Perhaps the unfriendly glares were a little more understandable now. With a little embarrassment she asked for directions to the river and quickly made her way out of the tavern, happy that her mask could hide her flushed cheeks. There really were benefits to keeping ones face hidden.

It didn’t take long for her to reach the river; its cleansing call of rushing water welcoming her closer. Over the weeks she had gotten used to her own scent but having been reminded of it by the tavern patrons made her keenly aware of how dire her need to bathe truly was.

The woman gently placed down her briefcase atop a nearby stone. Before she would enter the river, she had to check something first. The woman unclipped the latches that held the briefcase closed and excitedly tilted the lid upwards. Once catching the briefcase’s contents in their full glory, her posture rapidly drooped in disappointment. She relatched the briefcase closed and turned away.

With her obsessive duties complete she could now focus on getting herself cleaned. She excitedly approached the river so that its running water was within a step of her reach. Though her body ached to dive in allowing the waters to carry her pains away she hesitated at the edge of the bank worriedly clenched onto her cloak. She smelled so poorly precisely because she refused to take her clothes off for so long. The doe tentatively scanned around herself for any ill observers. The only thing she caught was the slight rustle of a bush too small for any stalking predators. The paranoid doe still felt a powerful desire to move higher upriver, but her sensibilities thankfully took over allowing the urgency for rest to outweigh the fear of any daring animals visiting.

The woman turned away from the bush and stared back out to the river. She took a deep breath and then finally she took off her mask. The doe mask easily slipped off her head revealing behind it the woman’s hairless soft blue face. Her small eyes were far too small for a normal human and her pupils formed thin vertical slits across her brown irises. The woman gingerly put her doe mask down on the ground next to her and similarly did the same with her other two masks.

The woman grabbed onto the two shoulders of her cloak pulling it off of her body. Then she grabbed on to her patchwork gambeson, and despite being alone, she doffed it with a shy hesitance. Her whole body was a stark dark blue only blemished by the bright red weave of scars and cuts intermixed with blacken splotches of old skin burned leather. A thin lighter blue line dipped from the nape of her neck all the way down her spine and continuing on to the tip of her tail. No longer needing to hide within her cloak anymore the woman unfurled her thick prehensile tail finally allowing herself to stretch those strained muscles. Along the lighter blue ridge of her tail a series of old blunted spikes that had been filed flat were only now starting to regrow.

The freed woman carefully began pulling her fingers out of the sleeves in her gloves when her sharp ears heard a sudden gasp from a bush. The woman immediately whipped around to face the source of the noise poised to pounce. The bush rustled and she could hear the panicked scurrying of feet. The woman sprinted towards her mask hurriedly placing the mantis over her face. With an impossible calm the mantis poured her strength into her tired legs making a tremendous leap into the woods and violently snatching up the two bodies that had attempted to run from her.

In either of the woman’s hands was a young boy; one with blond hair and the other black hair, neither could be any older than thirteen. “Please don’t eat us, we’re just weak little kids!” The blond child began crying.

The other child didn’t break into tears, but his fear and terror still contorted his squeaking prepubescent voice just as much. “Yeah, children don’t even taste that good!”

The mantis held the two children by the dirty rags they used as a sorry excuse for shirts and fought back the urge to kill them on the spot. She could tell that if the children continued to squirm and struggle as much as they were, then the clothes they wore would be ripped allowing them another chance at escape. The woman tried her best to alleviate the children as much as someone wearing a heartless mantis mask could. “Relax twerps, I’m not going to eat you.”

“You’re not?” The blubbering blond child asked his voice hitching as hope slipped through his tone. He swallowed the tears that were threatening to flow out again as he turned his head to brace the sight of his captor. When the blond boy caught the sight of the woman wearing nothing but a small pair of wooden shoes and leather gloves, he quickly whipped his head away, his face turning as red as the woman’s was blue.

“Why would I even eat you?” The woman replied anger turning her voice gravely.

The other boy having his heart alleviated by the fact that his captor wouldn’t eat him grew some unfounded confidence and responded to her with his best attempt at defiance “Because that’s what you evil mokoi do! You eat nice people.” The boy faced the woman as stoically as possible, but his infantile mind kept being distracted by her nude body.

The woman growled to the courageous boy in irritation. “I am not a mokoi!” She found herself blinded in rage from the very insinuation. The mantis tried to bare her fangs to the children, even though the masks the seething anger was felt making the cowardly blond child redouble in his crying and the defiant black-haired boy shut his eyes in preparation. The woman paused and took the time to bury her hostility before she did anything rash to a pair of children. She closed her eyes and took a breath before opening them again now a little calmer than she was before.

When she opened her eyes, she saw that the black-haired boy’s fear made way to enticement as he hungrily eyed her body. “Hey kid, you better keep your eyes up or I really will eat you.” The boy let out a panicked yelp and quickly shot his head away from her body anxiously locking with the mantis’s eyes. There was something about how emotionlessly she spoke that made the child take her threat with absolute seriousness.

His cowardly friend still kept his head as far turned from the woman as possible as he meekly questioned out “You’re not a mokoi?”

“No, I’m not.”

“Then what are you?” The black-haired boy spat back trying and failing to keep his courage.

The woman made her best effort not to take the words of the children to heart as she tried to peacefully soothe them. “I am human. You shouldn’t be so judgmental to people who look different.” Even so she couldn’t help but grimace to their trained bigotry.

“I’ve never seen a blue human before.” The blond boy finally braved facing the woman again but made sure to keep his eyes high above her neck.

“Or one that smelled so bad.” The black-haired boy added unhelpfully.

The woman’s tail instinctively twitched in agitation. “Well now you have, it’s called a mutant. And it doesn’t make me any less human!”

The blond-haired boy was unconvinced by what clearly looked like to him as a mokoi. “I’ve never heard of a mutant before.”

“They’re rare.”

“Fake you mean. She’s totally an evil mokoi! Don’t let her trick you Daft!” the black-haired boy warned his friend.

Daft seemed to be taking her words more critically than his friend. “It’s too confusing, mokoi, monsters, and now mutants. Too many m things that all look the same.”

The woman furiously gnashed her teeth shouting over the child “I do not look like a mokoi!”

The black-haired boy crossed his arms and grumbled back. “Well, you act like one.”

The woman was completely flabbergasted by the boy’s apparent lackadaisical attitude towards his own plight. “What’s your problem kid? Don’t you have any fear that I’m going to kill you?”

That comment made Daft stiffen but his friend retained his defiant resistance. “If you were going to hurt us you would have done it already.”

The mantis’s shoulders regretfully sagged at the child’s naïve confidence. “Well sorry kiddo, that’s where you’re wrong. Sadly, you met the wrong person at the wrong time, and I can’t have anyone mentioning to have seen me. So, I’ll have to kill you two.” The two children blanched, any essence of their once lively blood sinking deeper into the ill perceived safety of their bodies. The woman felt sympathetic to their situation, but she didn’t let it deter her conviction. “You guys really tied my hands here.”

The mantis adjusted her grip so that her dainty hands wrapped firmly around their necks and a small green glow covered them as she began to squeeze. The black-haired boy who had now lost any semblance of fortitude desperately pleaded through strained gagging breaths “Wait! Wait! We won’t tell anyone anything, we promise!”

Daft in turn choked out whatever assurance he could possibly muster to save his life. “Yeah. it’s not. like our parents. ever listen to us anyways.”

Surprisingly, the woman actually did loosen her hold on the boys as she lost concentration mumbling to herself in contemplation “Crap, you’re right. If I kill you two then the rest of the town will know I did it and then my mask getup will get more notoriety. The Tabulate Syndicate shouldn’t know that I have the masks, but any unnecessary attention is just giving them more dots to connect.”

The black-haired boy didn’t quite understand what she was on about, but he at least understood that killing him was a bad idea. “Exactly, if you kill us then the whole town will know and instead of two people knowing you, there’ll be dozens! So really, it’s in your best interest to let us live and trust that we won’t say anything.”

The mantis called out of its monologuing faced back to the boy and responded with her bland uncaring voice. “You really don’t know me kid. I don’t trust people, that’s not my thing. But you definitely have a point about the town people.”

The hopeful black-haired boy excitedly agreed with her line of thought nodding his head. “Exactly!”

The mantis in turn also nodded her head agreeably. “So, I guess I’ll have to kill them all to.”

Daft burst into tears while the deflated black-haired boy’s eyes bulged in panic “What!? No! That’s not what you should do at all!”

The mantis ignored the child’s plea while solemnly nodding her head. “Yeah, it’s my best bet for leaving as little trace of me as possible. There’ll be no witnesses to visually describe me and the Tabulate syndicate probably wouldn’t connect the destruction of a random town to me.”

“There must be another option! You don’t have to kill us, the tabulate whatever won’t trace you here to begin with. please! please!” Now the black-haired boy was crying, any memory of prideful resistance being long gone.

“Sorry kid, but unless somehow miraculously there’s another way I can keep the Tabulate Syndicate off my back I’m left with no choi-“

The woman was interrupted by the sudden chime of a bell. Right in front of her in between the two choking children there was what seemed to be a small pink rhombus that grew out of thin air, or it was a rhombus, but its body would reject any stable state. It would shift and transform, shrink and grow, continuously morphing into other forms. The pink shape finally locked into a form resembling that of a featureless human with only one limb. The arm was outstretched towards the woman holding onto a glowing parchment: it read.

You have been invited to

The Tournament You are the Anlace